Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Mother's Day Crap

I have to admit that, despite the Hallmark nature of it, I want a Mother's Day present. I really do. Last year, the guys forgot and had to run out to get flowers for the deck after I cried. It all around sucked because I also found out that my favorite florist for my mother went out of business. I used to be able to call them up with a crazy idea and they'd laugh, make a suggestion to improve on my idea, and I'd let them run with it. My mother loved it! One year they decorated a flat of petunias with fabric and ribbon so she could plant them in the ground when she got around to it.

I know I'm running late on making plans for Mother's Day, but I acknowledged that today when I started making phone calls. I decided my mom needs a tree, a tree that will bloom every spring.

Crap, I don't want to tell you about the stupid people I talked to at the nurseries. Really, I told them how much I wanted to spend and that I knew I was too late to get it planted on time. You'd think they'd find a way to take my money. You'd think.

Picture me on the phone with a sick kid who is still trying to do homework on the computer and I'm trying to convince someone from my mother's town to help me give her a present. I wasn't showered. I was ill at ease, and aching a bit because I knew this idea wasn't going to work. The third company never bothered to call me back.

I ended up feeling strange. Why didn't I order roses and be done with it, I wondered. You know when you finally come up with an idea, the idea and it isn't working? I was derailed. See, this morning, Nick had a cramp just as it was time to leave for school, a bad cramp

Yes, I appear to be complaining about my son, but it isn't his fault. Stuff hurts sometimes. I thought it was the stomach thing he'd had the day before. I imagined the poor kid, sitting in class with some teacher saying he couldn't use the bathroom when he wanted to, when he was cramping, when he needed to. I hate that about school, that they won't let a kid go to the bathroom when they need to go. Tell me that you haven't been there and I'll tell you that you're full of shit.

Out of sorts. Pathetic.

What kind of daughter am I? I can't even get a tree delivered for Mother's Day.

Thank you for listening, jules

No comments:

Post a Comment